


Meeting After a Platform

by Lonelyplatform



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Non Fandom - Freeform, OCs - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Text, Original Writting, Train Station, perspective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonelyplatform/pseuds/Lonelyplatform
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people, both on the same platform, both on a train. Both of them don't want to be there, but both have to. Neither knows who the other is, and their names have been hidden in cloud and doubt for too long. Who are they? Why are they here? Do they even know the questions to these answers themselves?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting After a Platform

She waited at the platform, watching the digital sign flash names of places she had never heard of, just waiting for the pixels to form some familiar words. The blank screen of her new phone stared back at her ticking away the seconds in the form of a stark white digital clock, as if testing her patience and mocking her isolation. Then again, no one did know her new number. The droning static voice continued to boom warnings of "mind the gap between the train and the platform" and the trains would roar past, almost knocking over her suitcase balanced against her leg. She glanced once more at the digital sign, the next train flashed up, a familiar arrangement of letters. 3 minutes. She clutched the handle of her suitcase tighter, pulling it up to her side. 2 minutes. This was it, she looked around at the others waiting for the train; a business man with a black briefcase; a mother trying to control two young children running in circles around her feet; a couple too engrossed in each other to take any notice of anyone else. And none of them knew who she was. She smiled to herself, letting out a silent laugh of relief. 1 minute. Now fully picking up her suitcase, she walked to the front of the platform, abandoning the security of leaning against the wall. The rush of air that signalled the oncoming train blew through her hair reaching her eyes and making them water behind her glasses. Lights appeared in the tunnel and were soon followed by the sound of moving wheels. She looked down onto the tracks seeing the mice and rats scatter away from the noise. The train drew into the platform, slowing down and stopping in front of her, and the once brightly painted red doors slid open. She stood back, trying to not be bowled over by the masses of people spilling in and out of these doors. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at the digital sign once more, it confirmed this was her train. Minding the gap she stepped into the metal tube. The lights wee strong and bold, the smell warm and dense; one that would be repulsive to anyone not used to the mundane commute. Half the seats were empty, the people who had occupied them were now walking away from the platform and carrying on with their usual lives. She chose a seat on the end of a row, placing her suitcase between her legs. The carriage started to fill up again as more people entered from the platform. The business man she had seen earlier took the seat opposite her, placing his briefcase on the seat next to him, he nodded at her, and she replied with a small smile and a nod. A boy wearing bright green cap back to front on his head and a hoodie with the same design sat down two seats from her, he smelt of smoke and alcohol. She nervously shuffled in her seat, wrinkling her nose in an attempt to remove the smell. A monotone voice told the carriage to "mind the doors" and the train began to move away from the platform and into another tunnel, continuing on its rat run underground. The suitcase between her legs started to wobble as the train did, so she tightened her hold on it between her legs. She looked across at the business man, now absorbed into a crossword puzzle, and noticed the slight red stain on the inner corner of his shirt collar. He'd tried to hide the stain with his tie and jacket. She noticed the boy in the cap mouthing words of the music he was listening to, noticing the familiarities with the Les Miserables sound-track. Another chuckle escaped her mouth. It was hard to notice the silence in the carriage, the ongoing rumble and rattle of the wheels provided a contestant background noise, helped by the air rushing past the not so secure doors. But when a phone rang the break from silence caused every one, some more so than others, to stir. She looked down at her coat pocket, the thick chord looped over the button holding her bus card and phone in place. It wasn't her phone, she began to look up to confirm whose it was when the business man broke the silence once more "Yes, I am on the train." She sat still keeping her head down, listening to one half of a conversation, "on my way right now. Yes." She tried to decipher what the other half of the conversation was, listening more intently as he reduced to hushed tones "yes, I have it." She checked her watch, sitting back upright. She was still on time. Her palms began to get clammy and uncomfortable, but if she was to wipe them on her jeans people might notice. He didn't want to give anything away.  
They pulled into a stop, a mixture of sounds that had no clarity apart from the familiar "mind the gap". The boy with the hat and secret love of French musical left the train, to have his seat taken by a tiers looking woman. The train left the station.  
The business man had finished his conversation, and had resumed his crossword, but this time his hand was shaking, moving much slower. He touched the stain on his collar, adjusting his tie to cover more of it. As he did so she noticed the stain ran all the way over his shoulder and down his right sleeve under his jacket, coming to a stop just by his right shirt cuff, so she could see a faint pinkish hue behind the cuff-link.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment about anything x


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